


Stir-Crazy

by enoby_w



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Hogwarts Fifth Year, M/M, Male Slash, Slash, Summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-10
Updated: 2013-11-10
Packaged: 2018-01-01 00:55:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1038427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enoby_w/pseuds/enoby_w
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was on nights like this that Sirius felt as though time had stopped. Hot, stuffy nights when the air was so heavy it weighted down on his lungs and every breath was damp. And Sirius was stuck in his mothers house, and felt like the walls were going to crush him. HP/SB slash A oneshot</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stir-Crazy

**Author's Note:**

> Since I am posting things I forgot about I thought I might as well include this one too. Please enjoy.

It was on nights like this that Sirius felt as through time had stopped. Hot, stuffy nights when the air was so heavy it weighted down on his lungs and every breath damp. He lay on his back in the attic of his Mother’s thrice damned house. 

The sky light overhead pushed as far as it would open hoping to coax a non-existent breeze into the stifling room.

His jeans were rolled to the knee, top unbuttoned he lay watching the cloudless sky. His hair splayed over the dust coated floor- an awry strand stuck to his cheek, he brushed it free and sighed deep, coughing on the dust laden air. 

 

This could have been any night during any summer throughout his life- the number of night spent laying in the attic had been endless. Each as hot and stuffy as the last, and it was often while he watched the sky that he was still just a teenager trapped in his Mother’s house counting down the day until he could leave and his life would start up again.  
He’d wonder, how after all this time, after everything that happened-all that he’d endured, he ended up once again trapped in the most Noble and Ancient House of Black. And black it was and seemed to grow blacker by the day. The house seemed to crumbling- turning to dust before his eyes, and he had long ago decided that he wouldn't mind in the slightest if the place just up and blew any one day- good riddance to it.

 

The first month he was alone in the house- he’d moved ghost like through the deteriorating house, flitting from room to room- the ones that still left a bad taste in his mouth remained untouched. But then the house began to fill and swell, and walls closed in on him. He’d quickly run out of places in which to vanish into- as the order delved deeper into the house waging a war with the filth; conquering ground that he hadn't touched.

The house was full of noise and people, voices echoed down the halls and the darkest of the dark had been banished from Number 12. He’d watch them, and they hated it here as much as he did- but they could leave. He’d watch them come and go and here he remained. And sometime seeing the sunlight from this side of the door was more than he could bare.

Sullen they called him. Moody and childish- Mrs. Weasley never ran out of reasons to chastise him. 

He wondered if she’d ever been locked away from the sun before- how long had it been since the last time she stepped out into the wind or rain or got to run or feel the grass in between her fingers. He’d been so sure this house was going to be the death of him.

He stretched cat like arching his back and laying back arms stretched wide The Door to the far right of the room opened, sliding softly against the warped floor. Soft footsteps padded across the dust coated floor boards. Sirius opened his eyes and look up and the small figure crouching at his side. Harry Dropped gently to the floor, arms wrapped around his knees, and looked sideways at Sirius.

"Shouldn't you be asleep?" said Sirius.

"Yeah, well I'm not very good at doing what I'm supposed to am I," said Harry.

Sirius laughed head tilted back against the floor. 

"What bring you up to my gloomy tower on this mid-summer night?"

"I couldn't sleep- got sick of listening to Ron snore, figured you might be up and might like some company."

"I could always use your company Harry," said Sirius, he'd turned his head to look at Harry.

"So have you thought about it then?" asked Harry.

"Thought about what exactly?"

"About me staying with you- ya know if I get expelled Thursday."

"I don't think it's a good idea for both of us to be locked here."

"so-what it's be better for us to be locked up separately? How is that a better idea?"

"I don't know- it isn't- only you aren't going to get expelled and you aren't going to get locked up and I don't even want to think about it because then I'll hope you'll stay and you don't belong here and I wouldn't want to wish that on any one least of all you-but Harry I can't stay here like this. It's going to be the death of me."

Harry sat still for a moment, his thought s a whirling mess of feeling of frustration and dead ends, and then he stood.

"Come on," he said, brushing off his jeans.

Sirius sat up slow, "Come on where?"

"I don't know- just come on-okay?"

Harry linked their hands and lead Sirius through the sleeping house, from the attic down the squeaky flights of stairs as quite as possible, until they came to the front hall where the trolls leg umbrella stand stood in a shallow pool of moonlight in all its hairy glory. The last lights in the kitchen had been long ago extinguished- last members of the order had long ago left or drifted towards their beds. 

"Where are your shoes?" whispered Harry grabbing his worn trainer from the pile by the door.

"This isn't a good idea."

Harry shot him a flat look.

“It’s the middle of the night- where is your sense of adventure?”

Sirius snorted and smiled, “Okay fine, but when Mrs. Weasley turns me into a fur coat, its on you.”

Harry opened the door and they stepped out into the night, and stepped on to the empty street.

Neither of them moved.

“Now what?” asked Sirius.

“I didn't really think past actually you know going outside,” said Harry.

“You know I think there’s a garden out back- or it was at one time a garden- never mind, I heard someone mention a park- that way-”said Sirius waving, to the right of the house.  
The park was at the end of the street, the grass was worn and a few candy wrappers rolled across the ground in the breeze. 

They climbed a short sloping hill where the grass was still soft, and Sirius fell on his back; feeling the grass under his hands and the wind on his face and breathed. This was being alive.

Sirius turned his head; Harry lay in the grass next to him, looking up at the stars. The moonlight ton his face made it look thin and fragile, and sad. Far too sad for his age, but when he looked at Sirius his eyes lit up and was sweet and real.

“See,” he said, “isn't this better then laying on the dusty floor?”

“Comm’er,” said Sirius, and Harry moved closer to him, resting his head on his shoulder, letting Sirius wrap him up in his arms.

Harry turned his face into Sirius neck and squeezed his eyes closed, “what am I going to do without you ,” Sirius muttered, running his fingers through Harry’s hair. 

“Don’t say that,” Harry said, running a hand over Sirius cheek, his eyes were sad again, and Sirius’s chest felt tight.

“Fuck, kid you're killing me,” said Sirius, his forehead pressed against Harry’s. He rolled on to his back and let out a long breath.

“Aren't you even going to kiss me?” asked Harry, voice very small.

Sirius stared at him, mouth open. Harry looked small in the moonlight, fragile and Sirius didn't like it.

He did kiss Harry then, wrapped him up tight in his arms and kissed him soft and warm. Fingers ran through Harry’s impossibly soft hair, and held him close and Sirius breathed. This was living. 

They lay wrapped together on the hillock until the sky started to warm, and stars faded away. And the next morning, Harry could barely keep his eyes open over his porridge, and Sirius may have fallen asleep reading the prophet but he could breathe again, and Harry would smile at him soft and without the brittle edge of the day before, making silent promises of soft grass and stars and warm and living. All Sirius had to do was wait until the sun went down.  
And that was enough for him.

Fin-


End file.
